


Memento Vivere

by blindedstarlight



Series: Sagefire AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Smut, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindedstarlight/pseuds/blindedstarlight
Summary: A "Sagefire" spin-off-- the story of how Gladiolus Amicitia saved Aranea Highwind's life, and how in turn Aranea Highwind learned to trust, and love, again.





	1. Part One: Morality

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at: blindedstarlight.tumblr.com :)

He wasn’t sure what to make of the scene when he’d first come across the dark mass of limbs laying crumpled in the endlessly white terrain. The person had fallen in the snow, just outside Zegnautus Keep, dressed in full armour— weapon nowhere to be seen. Gladiolus Amicitia was no fool; he approached with caution. He pushed his thick boots into the plush snow below and dragged them as to refrain from giving himself away too soon.

Upon approach, he’d grown complacent. Weeks without human contact had him desperate to hear another voice; to affirm another living existence other than his own.

They shot out a startlingly strong arm before he could even comprehend what was happening, and he felt a sharp tug on his ankle before he tripped onto his back, impact buffered by the forgiving softness below. The other moved with purposeful elegance, frigid, frostbitten fingers grappling at his thigh, pushing him down as they climbed over him with a long-suffering grunt of effort.

The black and red war helmet they wore fell off, revealing a flushed face. Hypothermia. Grimy silver strands fell over bloodshot eyes as they blinked, vivid greens glazed over in pain as clear as day.

He’d been taken down by a woman. He could respect that; she’d played the game smart, after all.

She snarled above him, her icy grip at his throat. He bared his teeth and hissed, more from the cold seeping into his warm skin— the rapid temperature change causing  his skin to twinge in sharp, electrical jolts of pain.

Nostrils flared, and ready to kill, the woman straddled him at the hips and challenged him with a bold glare directly into his eyes. Usually a warm amber, the war cooled his inner flame, and all that was left was a dark hollowness in his gaze as he stared right back.

“I see we’re doing this the hard way,” he rumbled.

He watched her and remained still, observing and analysing even the smallest of her movements. She remained quiet on top of him, adjusting her weak grip on his neck. She winced and flexed her fingers stiffly as she stole his furnace-like heat from the contact. It must have felt like the fizzing of a sustained electric shock. Painful and bordering unbearable, no doubt. Still, she was stubborn, keeping her hands on him, her lips pulled into a determined grimace.

“Wh-who are y-you?” Her teeth chattered from the cold that had made a home in her body. She clenched her jaw and tried again, green eyes rimmed red, tears of frustration gathering at the corners as she continued to stutter in vain. “Wh-whatsa Lu-Lucian doin’ at th’Keep? Tell m-me.”

Words slurred, and energy reserves at complete zero, she let out a weak moan of despair before her grip slipped from the his throat. She let out a hoarse sob as her palms met the cold once more, whole hands buried into the snow at the force of her slip.

For all her efforts, she was still helpless. Gladio felt sorry for her.

“You okay?” His voice took on a softer tone; a warm rumble instead of a deep, threatening growl. He kept his eyes on her, wary as she fell further down, struggling to support her own weight.

She didn’t say anything. Nor did she move. Her eyes were clenched shut, and her whole body shook with exertion. She was on the brink of collapse.

His eyes caught sight of the glinting coat of arms pinned right above her heart on her black and red armoured uniform.

She was a Niff.

Every trained instinct within him screamed at him to throw her off, reach for his fallen sword, and end her right there and then. Her face was familiar to him, and that could only mean one thing— she was one of their higher ranking soldiers.

She was dangerous. He needed to remove the threat to the Crown. Swift and without a trace.

“T-tell me. Now.” She bit out. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and he watched it trail down her flushed skin. He lost track of where it went as she crumpled against his chest, completely drained. Her armour pressed into his skin through his uniform, and he groaned from the discomfort of the sensation before rolling both himself and the enemy soldier onto their sides.

Though unconscious, she curled into herself and huddled closer to his chest with a broken whimper. His heart ached out of pure humanity. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

With a decisive gulp, he made up his mind before he could second-guess himself.

Seek to save lives before you destroy them, Gladiolus. Be a good human before being a good soldier— your soul will thank you for it later.

He smiled at the thought of his mother’s stern words before his solo campaign into enemy lines. He pulled himself and the armoured woman upright, and slung her arm around his neck. With an effortful grunt, he pulled both himself and her up from the frigid snow, frowning as the cool air sent chills through his damp uniform.

Warmth. Shelter. Food and water.

That’s what they needed right now; questions could be asked later. Answers could be sought much later. For now, they just needed to survive.

Gladio chanced a side glance at the woman he’d decided to save. His eyes locked back onto the ornate design of the Empire’s insignia. Blood red with accents of white and silver, the sight of it left a sour taste in his mouth. He shook his head, blinking away his fatigue, and pulled the female soldier into his arms before bending and taking her into his arms, bridal style.

Time was of essence; she was burning up with fever, hypothermia kicking into its dangerous last stages as her body’s shudders muted into barely detectable spasms. Darkened amber hues looked like pools of dim mahogany as they searched the bleached horizon ahead for a safe place to lodge.

His gaze hardened as he was greeted with snow, snow, and more snow.

Holding her closer, he could already hear his father’s disapproving tone, coupled with a look of disappointment at his choice. Lucis was at war with Niflheim, and Lucis was sitting on the losing side. Ignis had been deployed to the Cartanica Front on a classified mission, but Gladiolus was no stranger to war-winning strategy.

Ignis Scientia had a talent for destruction, literally in the palms of his hands, and General Amicitia was going to use it to his advantage. His father was a warlord before he was human, after all. The war had made him as such. Humanity had been pushed aside in favour of the glory borne from the enemy’s bloody demise.

Major Gladiolus Amicitia was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps; to play at war like it was a game of chess— his soldiers all pawns to be used and sacrificed all for a taste of glorious victory.

He shook his head and set on forward, trudging through the snow with fatigue-heavy feet. His body ached, and the supplies in his pack were dwindling at best. Left with two weak solutions of restorative potion, Gladio knew that his chances of saving the enemy combatant in his arms was slim-to-none.

Still, his mother’s words echoed in his mind, and struck him in his heart.

With a resolute nod, he ignored the tired burn of his body, and pushed forward with the Niff soldier a dead weight in his arms.

Warmth and shelter. Food and water. Safety in enemy occupied land— that’s what they needed.

Darkened eyes watered in despair. Chest tight, and lungs burning from taking in frigid air, Gladio shook his head.

“I’m Major Gladiolus Amicitia of the Lucian Army.” He let out a shuddered breath, voice thick with emotion encompassing helpless determination. “I’m a man who fights for justice, not glory. And I’m going to save you, whoever you are. I promise.”


	2. Part Two: Generosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at: blindedstarlight.tumblr.com <3

Aranea woke, her body limp with exhaustion. The first thing she noticed was that her armour had been removed, as well as the entirety of her clothing. Her fingers twitched to form fists, but the muscle stiffness she felt all over her body made her movements feel unpracticed with how sluggish they were. Jaw clenched, she fought with the head-splitting ache right in the centre of her head, shooting down her neck and toward her upper shoulders, and tried to sit up to survey her surroundings.

All she could remember from before she blacked out was a pair of glazed-over brown eyes, frowning down at her. Those eyes were fierce, and they looked ready to attack if she gave him reason to. She had felt him under her, solid and pulsing with the power to turn the tables and end her. But then… there was a moment of softness, and she’d let her guard down.

She’d cursed herself just before the inevitable pull of exhaustion dragged her down into its cold embrace. She remembered up to there. The rest was black.

A particularly loud crackle of wood splintering nearby startled her, and she let out a hissed curse as her stiff neck protested the quick movement toward the source of the sound. Her mossy green hues met the warmth of the fire a good eight feet away, and she furrowed her eyebrows at the sight.

Muscles aching stubbornly, she slowly rose to sit up and let out a quiet yawn. Blinking exhaustion out of her eyes, she didn’t quite succeed as she clutched the rough blanket to her chest.

She tried to clear her throat, only to lead herself right into a procession of hacking coughs that rattled her down to the core. She wasn’t at one-hundred percent, and that scared her. She was more than vulnerable.

She was helpless.

“Fuckin’ show yourself,” Aranea rasped.

She took in the warmly lit interior of what looked too small to be a cave. It was a stone alcove, most probably used by the local fauna as shelter in extreme weather. Eyes widening in belated realisation, she sat up even straighter, instinct pulling her completely upright. She wasn’t going to survive being taken prisoner by a Lucian soldier, only to be gored alive by an angry black-coat bulette.

Brought up in the area, Aranea was well aware that the bulettes native to the borderlands of the capital and Cartanica were not creatures to be taken lightly. They did not hesitate to land a kill; especially with food so scarce in the frigid tundra.

Of course, the Lucian soldier didn’t know this. Of course he didn’t.

Caught up in surveying her surroundings, she didn’t notice the mass stirring beside her until it was already sitting up and yawning. She turned towards him, movement so abrupt her fatigued muscles screamed in loud protest. Almost losing her grip on the blanket, she stumbled and glared at the man.

“There you are—,” she hunched in on herself as another flurry of coughs wracked through her. She met his eyes after catching her breath, head pounding and sinuses blocked. She shivered, managing to roll her eyes as she realised why she was so out of sorts– commodore of the imperial army, struck down by the common cold. “Fuck, fuckin’ snow. Damn it!”

“You’re lookin’ better.”

She glared at him, stiff fingers clutched tightly at the blanket from within.

“Got a whole lotta lookin’ done while I was out, didn’t ya, fuckin’ dog—.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head, clearly alarmed by her accusation.

“No, not at all. It’s not like that! You were really far gone. It was kinda touch and go for the past few days.” He averted his gaze and shook his head, eyes glazed. “Thought you were gonna die. You stopped responding and I couldn’t feel a pulse. Lips were fuckin’ blue and your breathing—.” He shuddered, cutting himself off as he brought his gaze back up to lock onto her mossy hues.

She blinked at him. Gratitude came first, then the need to survive pushed it away. She shook her head, eyes sharp on him, watching his every moment, reading into every minuscule gesture.

He wore black and gold. He wasn’t good news— at least, he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Why?” She pointed at his breast pocket, swirling her frost-bitten finger at his medals. “Major.” She dropped her hand, withdrawing it back into the warmth of the blanket. Itchy as it was, it did keep her warm along with the fire. “You’ve gotta be aware by now; I’m a Niff—.”

“Commodore Aranea Highwind,” he interrupted her, gruff voice lined with curiosity, “I saw your ID.” He paused, unsure, and then blinked hard before looking her in the eyes again. Jaw clenched, he gestured at her shoulders and then moved down to her hips. “I also…um—?”

Heart racing, she backed away from him, only for him to look up at her in alarm and scramble to stand. Hand outstretched, he shook his head. Spooked, she shook her head back and stumbled further back, hand clutched too tightly at the blanket.

He saw them. He knew.

Shame burned at her cheeks, and the helplessness hollowing her insides grew heavier.

“Fuck you.” She hated how weak she sounded. “Don’t come near me. Just fuckin’ stay away—.”

He stopped his slow advance, but shook his head still. “I won’t! Just… the fire! Careful!”

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. She’d forgotten about the fire. Stiff, she shuffled sideways, away from the fire and shivered as the warmth bled away into the frigid cold. She sank down and curled into herself, her tender flesh smarting with the movement. Another round of coughs shook her body, and a whimper escaped her a she slumped in on herself.

She laughed hoarsely, avoiding his gaze. He was still standing, but he remained where he’d stopped. She didn’t understand why. Her peripherals caught the warm lick of flames reflected off a large broadsword that sat propped against the spruce stone wall.

He could have so easily ended her.

An end would have been welcome. She had nothing to go back to. Nothing to look forward to. A strong soldier before the world, she was time and time again reminded of how helpless a woman she was, playing a game of rank and influence, only to be used again and again in the most brutal and inhumane of ways.

She was tired of it.

Defeat washed over her. She looked up at her captor and found the energy to smirk.

“I’ll ask again; why?”

He frowned down at her, hand dropping to his side, limp and lacking intention.

“Why what?” His voice was soft, timid almost, like he was trying to keep from spooking her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. All the men she’d come across in the Niflheim ranks always boomed. The man before her looked more than capable, and yet, he refrained.

It jarred her.

She coughed again, throat raw. She needed water. The need for water gave way to a realisation for the need of sustenance. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She folded further, eyes on the frosty dirt ground, watering with frustration.

“The Niffs are gonna launch an attack on the Lucian capital,” she murmured, breath hitching. She took a gulp of cool air in, and it prickled in her tired lungs. Licking her dry lips, she shook her head. Tears fell. She wanted it over. She couldn’t do it anymore. “That’s all I know.” Aranea nodded toward his sword. “You wanted information. You got it. What’s stopping you from ending me now?”

There was a pause.

Then a long-suffering sigh.

“Nothing. I just don’t want to.”

Her head turned up to him, whiplash and alarm causing her eyes to widen, pain clear in them. She glared up at him, shaking her head. She tried to stand, but couldn’t find the strength to get to her feet. She bared her teeth instead.

“Fuckin’ liar. You’re Lucian. You’re trained to extract and kill. I shouldn’t even have to be saying this—.”

“Think what you want,” he sighed and shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re okay— Niff or not.” He held Aranea’s gaze for a few uncertain moments and then frowned apologetically. “Sorry about the clothes, they’re dryin’ there next to my jacket.” She followed the line of his arm and pressed her lips into a firm line as the sight of her neatly hung clothes across an elevated rock. “They should be good to wear tomorrow; I’ll bring ‘em closer to the fire in the morning.” He continued to mumble, not quite able to look her in the eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I mean, I didn’t do anything…” he trailed off, his expression bordering distraught.

Aranea took in the way he wrung his shaking hands. She considered the stiff set of his shoulders. The softness in his raspy tone— he was getting sick too, she was sure of it. The vastly different climate between Niflheim and Lucis wasn’t doing the soldier any favours. She almost felt sorry for him.

“I don’t get your angle, Major—.”

“Gladiolus Amicitia. Gladio,” he mumbled. “We’re just two people out here tryin’ to survive. Let’s just leave the war out there,” he gestured at the snowy plains beyond the alcove’s entrance. “I’ll go get you somethin’ to eat. Went hunting earlier on.”

Before she could say anything in response, he moved away with ginger steps. Stiff due to exhaustion or the cold, Aranea couldn’t tell— but she was more overwhelmed with the confusion she felt about the Lucian soldier.

Gladiolus Amicitia… the Lucian general’s son.

She shivered and held the blanket tighter to her body. She waited until he returned, carrying a large piece of roasted meat skewered haphazardly on a stick and a small hard plastic cup of what she presumed was water with him. He held it out to her, his eyes warm, dark honey.

She reached out for the meat, and nodded at the ground in front of her.

“Put the water here,” she whispered.

Obedient, he did as he was asked.

She frowned as he backed up after following her instruction.

“What’re you getting out of all this, Gladio? What purpose does this serve? I could turn around and skewer you the moment you let your guard down enough. Why are you taking this chance on me?”

He met her mossy eyes and offered a small smile. Some of its light reached his eyes.

“Dunno. I just wanted to help. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” His jaw tightened suddenly as his eyes flickered to her shoulders where the telling bruises blossomed violent purples, pinks, greens and yellows. She tensed, and he shook his head.

“I think people in my position need to help more, and hurt less.”

He rose from his crouched position and took a few steps away from her. Puzzled, she could only watch him with almost childlike interest as he made his way back toward his spot near his sword. He settled down and gazed at Aranea from across the flames.

“Shuffle a little closer to the fire; you need to keep warm. And drink all of that.” He pointed at the cup he’d placed before her, “you need the fluids. I’ll bring you more when you’re done.” Gladio’s brows furrowed as he thought, and then his eyes widened as he looked to her once more. “And tell me if you’re feelin’ cold. I’ll dry your clothes closer to the fire sooner—.”

“And what about you?” Aranea spoke up, shaking her head in disbelief at the selflessness of the man who was supposed to be her enemy. “When are you gonna rest up? You’ve been through the ringer too.” She arched a brow.

Gladio paused in thought, and then shrugged, a short laugh escaping him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m resting just fine. Focus on yourself. Now, eat. You need the strength.”

She didn’t wait any longer.

She took a bite of the meat, and a sip of water. She took it slow, and felt uncomfortable at the way her stomach grew fuller and fuller. She coughed at the last sip of her water, and before she knew what was happening, she felt him gently pull the cup from her hand.

His large palm was between her shoulders, rubbing to soothe as she lurched forward with each violent cough. The aches muted under his touch, and that scared her.

Still, she couldn’t find it within herself to tell him to go.

He was warm.

She decided that he could stay as long as the war remained outside.


	3. Part Three: Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at: blindedstarlight.tumblr.com

It took three days for Aranea to stand of her unaided. In those three days, the two survivors had established a comfortable routine that lended toward their need to survive. Gladio would head out to hunt for their next meal, and Aranea would stay within close quarters of their happenstance shelter to fend off any unwelcome guests. Weak as she felt, she was sure as hell not going to let it show through as much as it already had.

Every time he left, she felt something inside her scream to follow after him— just in case he decided to leave and never come back. She felt absolutely pathetic; like she had lost her independence; her will to incite within herself the autonomous authority that had once relentlessly driven her forward no matter what the obstacle would lay ahead of her.

His tender gazes and soft smiles weren’t doing anything to help the growing tension within her either. She knew what those were all about; she’d been on the receiving end of those from men both older and younger than her ever since she’d joined the army. Those eyes and lips were only morphing into cloned mockeries of affection for one purpose— release.

Rolling her shoulders, she pulled her arm back and threw her lance into the slow with a muted shriek. Breaths pluming before her face in white clouds of condensation, she crossed her arms over her abdomen and hunched in on herself as she shut her eyes. She shook her head, feeling her hair fall across her shoulders, knotted at the tips and greasy at the roots.

She needed a shower.

Footsteps crunching in the snow nearby alerted her to company. She wrenched her lance back up out of the snow and crouched; bending her knees and leaning forward in a ready position to pounce. Mossy eyes sharp on the incoming form, she didn’t relent even when she recognised the form trudging his way over with a bloody carcass slung over his shoulder.

Dressed in his full uniform, he looked every bit the Lucian dog she’d pinned him for when she’d first come to. Still, he continued to act in a way so contrary to what she’d expected, she wasn’t quite sure if she was conscious or still in the middle of a fever dream.

When he was within earshot, she laughed derisively and straightened her posture. She didn’t let go of her lance. He was still holding onto his sword, after all.

“What’s that? Looks pathetic. It’s barely gonna fill me up on its own, let alone give you enough of a feed to stay on your feet.”

Gladio’s frown grew more pronounced as he grabbed the small game from where it was slung over his shoulder. He pulled it and let it dangle from his grip, blood dripping onto the snow; liquid crimson tainting the pure white below.

Aranea thought they looked a little like roses.

She liked roses.

“There’s nothin’ out here, ‘Nea—.” He cut himself short, eyes wide as he realised his slip of tongue. “Shit! I’m sorry… you okay with me calling you that?”

She blinked at him. “No one ever has.”

“So… is that a no?”

Grip on her lance tightening, she grit her teeth and shrugged.

“Shouldn’t matter to you in the end anyways— you’ll do what you want—.”

“That’s not true,” he interrupted her, tone gruff yet somehow gentle. “It’s why I’m asking. It’s why I said sorry.”

Aranea levelled him with a hard stare, and the seconds felt like the were going on for much too long to bare. Resolve wavering too soon, she shook her head and ripped her gaze from his, opting to stare at the blood dripping onto the snow, creating a morbid blossom on the frosty terrain.

“I don’t care. Do what you want.”

She turned on her heel and made her way back into the alcove, allowing herself a small moment to let her guard down. She sighed in relief as the warmth of the ever-burning fire washed over her. She made a beeline for the deepest reach of their makeshift shelter, leaning her lance up against the stone surface, and then grabbing the blanket she’d left at her spot earlier before taking a seat.

Gladio shuffled in after her, taking his usual spot halfway between the entrance and the fire. He took hold of one of the thick cooking skewers he’d fashioned while she was at her worst, and he pushed it through the wild hare with a grimace.

“Eugh.” Disgruntled, he shut his eyes and shuddered. “I need some fuckin’ cup noodles right about now…”

She snorted.

“Cup noodles?” She looked him up and down, clearly appraising. All lean muscle and unforgiving power, she shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t peg you the type to enjoy that shit, Amicitia. Thought you’d be more into protein shakes.”

He shrugged, grin forming on his face, a keen twinkle in his eyes.

For the first time, Aranea noticed that his eyes were a warm amber. She didn’t know how to feel about it. All she knew was that her cheeks were suddenly a little warmer too, and the way he was smiling made her want to both see it more, and run the hell away.

Nothing good came of feeling things, after all. That was a lesson she’d learned in the army early on.

“I like pie too. Ma’s pie is the best!” he laughed, tone taking on a wistful tone. “When I was a kid, dad took me to a convenience store after he finished up with a meeting. I think I was eight?”

He averted his gaze and rubbed at the back at his neck, a soft flush forming on his cheeks. Eyes glazed over, lost in warm memories, he suddenly looked so much younger than the battle-hardened soldier she’d sussed mere days ago.

“He made me a cup of those noodles. Just some water, some dehydrated noodles in styrofoam, and original seasoning but…I experienced heaven, ‘Nea. I grew wings. I flew—.”

The laughter bubbled out of her; she couldn’t help it. Hand snapping up, she slapped it over her mouth as she doubled over. Eyes watering and cheeks sore from grinning too hard after so much time spent grimacing and frowning, she felt like she was listening to a stranger as she choked out unstoppable sounds of mirth.

“O-oh my god. Fuck you, Gladiolus! You’re fuckin’ ridiculous—!”

“I’m being serious! I swear, I thought I saw god!” He exclaimed, laughter in his voice. He settled their soon-to-be meal on his thigh and pulled out a standard issue utility knife. He brought it to the soft brown fur and let his hand hover, shaking slightly in hesitation. She saw him clench his jaw and then nod, as if he was trying to psyche himself up before skinning his game.

She briefly wondered how he’d managed to carve up the bulette when they’d first arrived to their shelter in the middle of a snowy nowhere. Despite her reservations, the previously non-existent respect she’d held for Major Gladiolus Amicitia of the Lucian army was steadily growing with every passing minute. Even more so, she found herself wanting for the first time.

She remembered how warm and solid he’d felt under her that day in the snow.

Shaking her head, she snorted lightly and sniffled, cold sticking around; persistent and annoying to boot.

She heard him chuckle softly.

“What?” She snapped defensively.

He shook his head. “Nothin’. You’re kinda cute, you know that?”

Aranea’s jaw dropped. Gaping at him, she didn’t know how to respond. She’d been called a lot of things in her thirty-two years of existence— a bitch, a whore, a slut, scum, murderer, monster— but never cute.

Her eyes watered, and for the first time in a while, she felt safe enough to let them.

It had only taken days. A mere few days…

He’d broken her in the softest and kindest way possible. She was falling, and she was falling fast.

“Why?” She came full circle, asking the question once more, doe-eyed and expression almost vacant. Aranea was preparing herself for a critical blow. Confused and essentially alone, other than Gladiolus, she didn’t have anything else left to lose.

All she could possibly do was gain.

She wanted to gain some answers. She wanted things to make sense again.

Those damn honeyed ambers softened further, and she felt that she would drown in them and still be more than fine. He sighed and shook his head, smile pulling at his lips. Long lashes brushed the tops of his high cheeks as he blinked slowly, and Aranea found herself in a trance. She couldn’t look away.

She was done for.

If he wanted to end her, now was the time to do it.

She wouldn’t fight. She couldn’t.

Not now. Not with the feelings fluttering in her stomach that had her feeling like she was floating away toward a happier place. She was feeling sappy; this had only happened one other time with one other man…

She shut her eyes tight and pushed the painful memory away. He’d been bigger, stronger, and so much more brutal than Gladiolus Amicitia. He’d been a big mistake. He’d been her end.

But if her callous general had been her end, the gentle major smiling at her from across the life-giving fire was her way to a new beginning.

“Because I wanna help. And maybe, I kinda like you. A lot.” He shrugged, smiling and blushing and beaming and looking so incredibly genuine—

She relinquished her guard, and she let herself fall good and proper.

“Not so bad y’self…” she mumbled quietly.

“Ha, really?” His tone rose, skinning forgotten; there were softer matters at hand.

Aranea’s stomach rumbled, and she shot him a pointed glare.

“That’s not gonna prepare itself, you know?”

He frowned at her, put out. “You’re avoiding the question—.”

“Get that thing roasting, and c’mere. I got something I wanna show ya.”

Confused at the sudden change in conversation, Gladio frowned, but did as he was told. “Yes ma’am.”

She couldn’t help the pleased smirk that pulled at her lips at that.

“Ma’am, huh? I like that. You can call me ma’am all you want, anytime you want.”

Focused on his task, he couldn’t hide from her the way the tips of his ears flushed dark pink despite his tanned complexion. She watched him as he fumbled his way through preparing their small, but hard-earned meal. He was working hard with the little experience he had— she knew he was younger than her. He was barely working his way toward being a fully grown man.

He was young, but he was enthusiastic. He was willing to learn.

And perhaps there were things that he already knew.

She bit the inside of her lip as that familiar ache in the very pit of her stomach grabbed her attention for the first time in months. Mossy eyes locked onto busily working hands, individual muscles in his forearms working in tandem with the movements of his nimble fingers. Her gaze traced the intricate feathered appearance of his tattoo up to the fold of his uniform jacket, and she found herself wondering what the rest of it looked like.

Aranea wanted to know more about the man who’d saved her. She wanted to know more about the man who nursed her back to health, having thrown all his prejudice aside just to see her as a human being in need of a helping hand. She wanted to know how to make him feel good.

She wanted to repay him the only way she’d learned how.

She only wondered if he’d let her.

Suddenly unsure of herself, she bit her lip and cleared her throat.

He jerked his head up, and warm amber met mossy green with curiosity and a tinge of concern.

“What’s up?”

“How much do you like me?” she pried, voice wavering a little.

Gladio paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side in befuddlement.

“A lot. How come?”

Her heart melted. Even his questions were soft.

“Enough to get yourself involved in a little mutual fun?” She didn’t dare look away from his eyes in case he thought she was just offering out of obligation. No, this wasn’t obligation— she wanted it too. She wanted to see just how good he could be to her.

In a way, she was going to test him the most rigorous way she knew how.

He would either pass or fail.

The thought scared her. She didn’t want him to fail.

“I, uh, I mean I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t into that…” Gladio trailed off, a nervous laugh escaping him. He finished skinning the hare and gingerly set the tail ends of the skewer on a makeshift stand over the fire. Brushing his hands against his pants, he turned toward her fully, a hesitant expression on his face. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression though. I know that the rumours going around about me are pretty wild, but it’s a load of bullshit— I wouldn’t ever use a woman like that—!”

He cut himself off when Aranea shook her head.

“Please, Gladio. Trust a woman who’s been used to the point of bleeding to have an idea of what you might be capable of.”

A pained expression took his face. “Even more reason for me to just stay on my side, and you on yours—.”

“No,” Aranea emphasised as she rose to her feet, blanket falling and pooling at her feet. Her hands found the clasps of her armour as she maintained eye contact with him, nodding with assurance with every hesitant step he too back toward the cold wall on his side. “Even more reason for you to prove to me that you’re different from what I’ve learned. From what I know.”

Breast armour falling to the ground, she was left in only her thin black camisole that doubled as a binding bra. Convenience over sense of style— always.

She took another step forward and reached a hand out to him. Gladiolus blinked at her, and his hand twitched at his side, rising slightly before pausing.

He looked her in the eyes and licked his lips nervously, conflicted but eager.

“You sure? You sure you wanna do this? With me?”

She smiled at him, properly for the first time since meeting him. She nodded.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” Her gaze narrowed, lidded as her tone dropped into a seductive purr. His hand took hers, and she closed the distance with a final step.

He was warm, and so still.

She leaned up, and with her heart beating rapidly in her chest, blood pumping loudly in her ears, her lips hovered mere inches from his.

“I want you,” she whispered.

She heard his breath hitch. Tentative hands came to rest on her hips. They rubbed at her gently, thumbs tracing the lightest of circles against the exposed strip of pale skin between theme of her camisole and the waist of her leather pants.

“Then you’ve got me, ‘Nea. I’m all yours.”


	4. Part Four: Sincerity (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at: blindedstarlight.tumblr.com <3 Also... here's the smutty part xD

Their first time was defined by timid touches and whispered assurances. It was slow, it was exploratory— like a budding flower bursting into bloom. Aranea found herself smiling the next day, and found it mirrored on the Lucian’s own grinning lips. It was like she had finally found her place in heaven, and Gladiolus Amicitia was the one to have guided her there with his warmth.

The morning after they’d first let down their walls, Gladio was awoken by a three shrill beeps bursting from his uniform pocket in obnoxious succession. He groaned and removed his arm from around the commodore’s warm midriff and grabbed the device, pulling it out harshly and haphazardly shoving the earpiece into his ear before pressing the red button to receive the transmission.

“Amicitia—.”

“Hey, you’re alive! Good to hear. Look,” Nyx hesitated for a short moment on the other end of the line, then sighed tiredly before continuing, “shit’s pretty bad in Cartanica. We lost a whole battalion, but Operation Sagefire was a success. We won the day, but at what fuckin’ cost…”

He sat up, alarmed.

“Wait, what? You’re shitting me right now—!”

“Nah, it’s true. The place’s apparently roasted. Corporal Furia’s already brought the first wave of the viable back, and they’re a sorry lot. The rest aren’t expected to make it back to Lestallum, but the general’s not really doin’ much about it—.”

Gladio’s gaze hardened, focusing on the soft curve of Aranea’s shoulder. The starkness of the beauty spot there took his attention, gave him something to ground himself with. Love for his father clashed with apathy for his general’s wishes.

General Clarus Amicitia was a formidable warlord, but he was also a cruel one.

The disadvantages that came from being at war with Niflheim made him as such. Gladio understood why, and hated it all the more. It was the very reason why he was forced to follow the path of a soldier— to uphold the Amicitia tradition; to carry on the might of the Crown’s Shield.

He huffed gruffly— his father’s ideology turned out to be more suited to a sword than a shield. It was disappointing, but necessary.

It was what had potentially turned the tide of the whole damn war.

“He’s not gonna do anything ‘bout it. No point thinking on it. What do I need to do now?”

“First of all; where the fuck are you? You’ve been M.I.A for almost three weeks now! We all thought you were dead. I got a feelin’ that’s kinda the reason for your old man losin’ his marbles and ordering that suicide mission to go ahead.”

The jaded major glared. “I couldn’t get a fuckin’ signal— don’t turn this on me,” he bit out with a growl.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Nyx sighed. “I’m just on edge. Think everyone is. Can’t even begin to imagine what level of fucked up Scientia’s feelin’ right about now.”

Gladio winced. “Yeah… fuck. I just… if I’d gotten there sooner, maybe things coulda been different—.”

“What’s the hold up anyway? You’re due to Cartanica right about now?”

“G-Gladiolus?”

His eyes softened at her sleepy intonation of his name, her vice husky with sleep. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her shoulder; a familiar good morning kiss. She shuffled back into his warmth and let out a content sigh.

Nyx chuckled, the sound resonating in Gladio’s earpiece.

“Fuckin’ sly piece of shit! You late ‘cause you’ve been dickin’ some spy or somethin’ out there?”

With a frown, he snorted derisively. “It’s not like that. I got some really good intel—.”

“So show her a good time and get rid of her— who is it anyway?” Nyx’s tone changed from amused to serious within seconds.

Gladio bit his tongue and counted to three, feeling his temper rising at the older officer’s blatant disrespect. Of course he knew what the protocol was with the Niffs— extract the information, take what you wanted from them, then dispose of them quickly and with as little mess as possible.

But he just couldn’t do it.

It was the whole nature versus nurture debate all over again.

His mother’s respect for life was deeply ingrained in him. His father’s training pushed aside without a second thought, he’d chosen to save Commodore Aranea Highwind of the Imperial Army. He’d chosen to nurse her back to health. He’d chosen to be a comfort to her.

And he’d chosen to trust her with his entire being.

“Aranea Highwind—.”

“Who’s asking?” Aranea spoke clearly, authority finding its way into her tone, bolstering her confidence despite her vulnerable appearance huddled against his chest.

He couldn’t help but smirk as Nyx sputtered on the other end.

“Fuckin’ Aranea Highwind? That bitch’s spilt so much Lucian blood. What the fuck? END HER.”

“No.” Gladio didn’t hesitate. “She’s more valuable to us alive.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Gladiolus. You know not to fuck with the enemy. You’ve already broken that rule, literally. You know the general’s not gonna be happy about this—.”

“I don’t care. I think I did the right thing… Aranea, what are you doing—?”

He felt her fingers at his ear, and then felt her pluck the earpiece from it. Pressing it into her own, she wore an unimpressed expression as she pulled Gladio’s arm up so that the portable transmission device was closer to her lips.

“Havin’ a chit chat with this piece of hot shit here. Commodore Aranea Highwind here. What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Ah, so young Gladio’s found himself a proper lady, huh? Name’s Ulric. Just wonderin’ what the hold up is, is all. Mind explaining?”

She narrowed her eyes, fingers tight around Gladio’s wrist, heart speeding up as her nerves caught up to her. She felt called out, though there was no way the man on the other end of the transmission knew of her past.

Gladio barely knew about it, and he knew not to ask.

He’d just seen the bruises, and kissed them so softly she felt the pain melt away to give way to sensations she’d never even hoped to feel before. Flushing at the memory of their intimate dance, lit by the warmth of their ever-present campfire, Aranea bit the insides of her cheeks and grounded herself before answering.

“I’ve gone rogue. I don’t intend on going back to the empire. I’ve burned my bridges and built new ones forward. If I fuck up, I’ll order Major Amicitia to end me himself—.”

“I wouldn’t do it—,” Gladio started, only to have Aranea shift her position so that she could comfortable shoot a fierce glare up at him.

“He doesn’t have to take your orders, Highwind. That statement holds no assurance at all—.”

“He’ll do it,” she affirmed, serious mossy green locked with the warmest gaze she’d ever had the pleasure to meet. “He can’t say no to me. I know it.”

Gladio’s mouth fell open, and his eyes watered as he stared down at her.

It was true.

He couldn’t say no to her.

If she wanted it, he’d do it. If she wanted her end at his hands, he’d do it, if only to fulfil her last wish.

Nyx groaned on the other end of the line.

“I don’t have time for this. Just… do the kid a favour. If you insist on staying with him, go as his prisoner. The general will be more forgiving if he thinks Gladio captured you.”

Aranea didn’t hesitate. “I can do that. Easy.”

“Good. Now, if you’re both done with your fuckin’ little honeymoon, could you get your asses over to Cartanica? Shit’s not lookin’ too good and we need to get Scientia the fuck outta there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, why not? You asked so nicely, after all.”

“Sarcasm. Just what I needed.” Nyx chuckled darkly. “Just wait ’til ya see what Scientia did to Cartanica— heard you were supposed to be spearheading the whole attack before you were suddenly withdrawn. Lucky you.”

Aranea stiffened at his words. She glanced up at Gladio, whose brows were furrowed as he tried to keep up with the one side of the conversation he could hear. She gulped and nodded.

“Right. We’ll be there in a week. This the end of the transmission, or…?”

“Yeah, we’re done. Just hurry. Whatever intel you got, you can tell the general himself when you get to Cartanica Front. These little shit boxes eat up most of the transmission anyway…”

“Yeah. Fine. We’ll be there.”

Using her index finger, she jammed the red button on the small box-like device down, ending the transmission. She pulled the earpiece from her ear and sighed, shaking her head as she pushed it back into Gladio’s waiting hand.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound okay.”

She shrugged.

Huddled close, she felt his calf brush against her own in a coaxing touch. She bit her lip and let her eyelids flutter shut. Leaning her head back, she parted her lips and allowed a short laugh, indulgent laugh to escape.

She felt a hardness she’d learned to identify only the night before press against the swell of her ass. A lazy arm reached up to card gently through his messy hair, just as greasy as her own. She scrunched her nose in disgust and pulled at his dark chocolate strands.

“We’re both filthy, and you’re about ready to fuck again—.”

He cut her off with soft kisses up the column of her neck. Working his way up with teasing kisses to her earlobe, he captured the soft flesh between his teeth and nibbled so gently that she felt butterflies flurry in her stomach.

“One for the road. Before we head back into the war.”

Laughing, she turned to her side before slinging a leg over his hip. Hands splayed on his chest, she took a few seconds to gently trace the patterns of his intricate tattoo with the tips of her fingers before pushing him onto his back.

He grinned up at her, amber eyes hazed over with devotion as he threw the transmission device back onto his uniform jacket before firmly planting his hands over her perfectly curved hips. He took care not to squeeze; the morbid blossoms still looked tender in their purples, blues, greens and yellows.

Instead, he rubbed circles upon them, just as he’d done the night before.

Aranea licked her lips and let her eyes roll shut at the sensation. His length nestled against her opening, waiting patiently to be given permission to slip on home. Rocking her hips, she felt his pre-cum slick head brush against her clit. A hungry keen broke from her throat as she threw her head back at the preliminary sensation.

They weren’t even at the main event yet.

While their first time was slow and lended time for exploration, Aranea knew that she couldn’t stand to be patient this time round. She wanted release, and Gladio needed to be in Cartanica by order of the Lucian general.

Quick didn’t have to mean disappointing.

“Gladiolus,” she surged down, splayed hands on his chest moving up to meet around the back of his neck. Bare breasts pressed against his chest, she revelled in his warmth as his own hands gently moved up her back to hold her close. “You take the reins this time. Show me whatcha got, hm?”

She moved her hips up, lips parting as she felt his cock nudge in bit by bit with the torturously slow rise of his hips from below. He grunted, so soft it sounded more like a whimper. Her eyes softened and she tilted her head up from his jaw to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

“Good boy… just like th-that—.”

“So p-perfect, ‘Nea. So fuckin’ perfect.”

Cheeks growing warm at the praise— she wasn’t used to kinds words being thrown in such vulnerable situations— she hid her bashfulness with a harder, more bruising kiss. Taking his bottom lip between her teeth, her hips surged down in an indulgent roll to take him in his entirety.

He moaned and held her against him, hips moving languidly from below, rolling up with every fall of her hips. She gasped she felt one of his hands move between them towards where they were joined.

He knew they were indulging using borrowed time.

The rough pads of his fingers circled her clit, and she felt warmth encompass her entire being— starting directly from the deep pit of concentrated pleasure threatening to explode between her hips. Moving feverishly above him, she gasped and pressed a kiss above his heart.

“Love you,” Gladio whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple before rolling her onto her back. She let him handle her however he pleased— trust already established; quick but sturdy.

She didn’t hesitate as she shut her eyes and let her body get lost in sensations that felt larger than life. Flying through existence itself, she let her guard down and called for Gladio with each one of his thrusts.

“Gods, fuck, yes! There… Gladio, right there. You’re so good to me… too good to me—.”

The circles around her clit grew in pressure, and his thrusts delivered with more purpose than he’d started with. She had to crack her eyes open to take in the look of sheer concentration in the honey-amber eyes gazing down at her. Despite his furrowed eyebrows, he looked soft.

Despite the roughness of his palms and fingers, he was soft.

And in his softness, she found her ability to trust again.

“I love you,” he repeated again, his tone hoarse.

The sound of their coupling filled the gap between Aranea’s silent pondering and her hushed, yet entirely genuine, reply.

“Fuckin’ love you too— oh don’t you fucking dare stop what you’re doing right now!”

She rocked her hips up as Gladio pounded down, his eyes shut, brows furrowed in concentration and lips parted in silent prayer.

Aranea had never seen a more perfect being in her life. Her breath hitched and she squeaked as her orgasm took her by surprise. She bit her lip, trying to mute the rest of her sounds, only to have her lover lean down to capture her lips in a needy kiss.

She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist and bucking upward uncontrollably as he moved with precision, harmonising with her sounds with his own deep, rumbled moans.

“S-stay with me, ‘Nea. Come to Lucis.” He sounded strained, sweat beading down his jaw and dripping onto her chest. Aranea reached up and cupped his face, mossy eyes glazed over with post-orgasmic bliss.

She knew that he’d never say no to her, not matter what her request might be.

Gladio knew that he’d never say no to her.

But it was then, and only then, that Aranea learned that she couldn’t say no to him either.

She didn’t want to say no.

No matter what his request. No matter how terrifying the consequences might be…

She nodded, movement frantic as she felt another release sneak up on her.

“Yes. A-always. I’m beside you a-all the way—mmmm, I’m gonna come again!”

“Do it. I wanna feel it. I’m right there with y-ya…”

Release overwhelmed them.

They clung to each other like their lives depended on never letting go of each other.

Gladio’s breath hitched and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, gasping harshly as his hips snapped against hers, painting his release inside her. She writhed underneath him, arching her back, one arm holding him down onto her, and her other hand wound into his hair, tugging with the strength of her release.

Spent, Aranea let her arms and legs relax and settle comfortably where they were splayed on and around his furnace-like body. She laughed.

“You know how to use that thing— I’ve never come twice before.”

Gladio pulled himself up from his spot at the crook of her neck, disappointed grimace pulling at his lips. He rose up and out of her before resting on his side, cupping her cheek with a large hand, gentle to the touch.

Tan skin was a stark contrast against pale cream of her complexion. He smiled at her, adoration clear in his gaze. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she felt a wetness there for the first time since coming down from her high.

“You okay? Hurting anywhere?” His voice was so low and warm; rough but safe.

Her heart hurt. She felt the tears fall once he’d brought her attention to them. Allowing herself to trust him with another moment of weakness, she huddles against his chest and let out watery laugh.

“No. I feel so good. Too good. I… I didn’t think something like this could ever happen to a monster like me—.”

“You’re not a monster.” Gladio’s tone was stern. She pressed her forehead to his chest and felt his deep voice coddle her trembling heart in a way no one had ever done before. “You’re a strong woman lost in a pointless war.”

She nodded, tears still falling.

But she smiled, warm all over.

“But you found me,” she whispered. “You fuckin’ found me, Gladiolus. I’m damn lucky. I really am…”

“I’m glad.” He held her tenderly in his arms— capable of crushing her in his hold, but never even thinking to do so. “Never thought the war could bring me something so damn beautiful.”

“Sap.” She couldn’t help herself, grinning and pushing away from him. Taking in his handsome features, she reached up to let her finger trace down his forehead, nose and lips. She stopped at his chin and licked her lips before leaning up and pressing a firm kiss to his. “I love you. I mean it. And that means I’m with you ‘till the end.”

He stared into determined eyes, his throat tightening.

Eyes lit up, bright and hopeful, his mother’s words echoed in his mind as he leaned down to capture Aranea’s lips in a sealing kiss.

Seek to save lives before you destroy them, Gladiolus. Be a good human before being a good soldier— your soul will thank you for it later.

He felt warm even in the frigid cold of the tundra surrounding them. The world felt beautiful again. And between his arms, he found sense in the war.

The war wasn’t all about brutality. There was peace to be found.

Humanity found amongst the destruction was a simple, but powerful reminder for the both of them;

Life was to be respected. It was to be lived. So best live it, and live it with everything you have– you never know when it’s gonna end.


End file.
